Dirge for the Flowers
by Aries Draco
Summary: Marluxia centric exploration fic, mostly in relation to Demyx, with a mention VexenDemyx. Part 2: The other side, where the music speaks.
1. Dirge for the flowers

Warning: This is something like a collection of drabbles starring Marluxia. It also references the manga series "Godchild". Depending on the response, I might expand on the stories touched upon in here.

::Dirge for the Flowers::

He was struck down at the prime of his life, just as he finally got to inherit his father's earldom. It had taken him years to wear away at his elder brother, to make it look _natural_. His father had been so much easier: the man was old. Old enough to mistake aconite root for something less sinister. And he, the ever dutiful, only remaining son, made sure to spend plenty of time by the old man's bedside, making sure that the dose was lethal.

If he believed in such things, he might have felt some guilt, knowing that it was retribution. But he was not one to heed old stories. Besides, he was no longer capable of feeling guilt. After all, his heart had been stolen from his body.

When he came to himself again to find that he was no longer in his own world, he had screamed to the heavens and cursed all fate. It wasn't fair that all his work had come to naught. He'd taken such good care of his beautiful plants, nurturing them, extracting from them their toxic saps, flowers, leaves, roots. He'd even set up a small lab in a secret chamber and stocked it with his home-made brews. He'd poisoned his brother over nearly ten painfully long years to get that bastard out of the way.

His hands, which would never otherwise have seen toil, were callused and stained from the gardening and the alchemy he worked in his lab. Irreparably damaged, and for what? A single day when he could call himself the Earl Hargreaves before his heart was ripped out by demons and his body left to cry empty tears to an indifferent world. The position he'd waited so long for was to go to his nephew, a mere _boy_ who didn't even know about the vault of poisons.

Lost and bitter, _they_ found him. The Organisation. And though death might have taken his emotions, nothing could take his ambition.

Throwing away the name that meant nothing to anyone anymore, Marluxia raised his head and held it high, as a true gentleman would, breaking the illusion only with his smile and eyes that blazed with the fervour of a madman.

-

Demyx was quite naturally the first person he sought out to torment. Firstly, he might have had plans to take over the Organisation, but he wasn't stupid or suicidal. As a result, he left the original six alone… for the time being. Both Saix and Axel were also potentially dangerous, as he had witnessed first hand when it was their turns to spar with him. Luxord made him wary, always looking as though he knew something that Marluxia didn't, so he gave the gambler a wide berth, leaving only Demyx.

Besides, Demyx was the weakest of the lot and tended to give the biggest reactions.

When he was first introduced to the Organisation, he revealed that he had learnt to play several instruments in the course of his education. Number two had then joked about organising a little concert to showcase their 'hidden talents'. Demyx has been so excited that he nearly fell out of his chair before the Superior calmly said no. The look on the young man's face was priceless.

It was enough impetus for him to conjure a piano into his room. He could play, but it didn't mean that he enjoyed it particularly. While he lived, he never played a single note outside of practice hours. He'd preferred to spend time in his garden or his lab.

He almost expected Demyx to seek him out, considering how much that idiot loved music and how he was the only other person who knew a quaver from a case of the shivers. He would win Demyx's friendship, then destroy it completely, just for the shits and giggles.

Their meeting, however, was purely by chance. Marluxia had found the garden. As to why a castle at the edge of the world would come with a garden tucked away in an obscure corner, no one knew. It was just one of the castle's many idiosyncrasies, like the fluffy pink toilet covers and towels that came only in moss green. He was taking the time to explore it, stepping over the many creeks and streams crisscrossing the landscape, when he heard someone else walk in.

As luck would have it, it was his quarry, and he allowed himself a predatory smile before softening it and bidding his… superior good evening.

"I didn't realise anyone would come to the garden," said Demyx, looking a little awkward. "But I guess it makes sense since your element is flowers and all and this _is_ a garden for flowers and trees and bushes and other growy… thingies…"

"Unfortunately, the soil conditions are not suitable for growing flowers," replied Marluxia pleasantly.

"Oh, that's too bad, then." Demyx stared at his feet for a little while before looking up again. "Hey, do you mind if I play my sitar here for a little bit?"

"Not at all. I do enjoy music every once in awhile. Shall I summon a violin to accompany you?"

The silence that followed was frigid.

"No," came the reply finally.

Marluxia frowned slightly at the unhappy expression on Demyx's face. "You're used to playing alone, then?" he asked lightly. "But any good musician could improvise a duet…"

"I've heard you play," said Demyx almost coldly, though his expression was apologetic. "And your music has no heart. I can't play a duet with that."

What. The. Fuck. In that moment, he lost control of his image, narrowing his eyes at the insult. "Seeing as we have no hearts, don't you think it's a little difficult to create anything with heart?" he demanded. Of all the things he was expecting, he didn't expect Demyx to talk back.

There was hurt in those green eyes. "We do too have hearts," insisted the musician. "I know we do."

"Stop dreaming," spat Marluxia cruelly, a dull satisfaction rising as he watched the musician cringe. He left the garden on foot, leaving Demyx standing silently alone.

Then the music began.

That night, Marluxia threw the piano out of the window and swore revenge for the humiliation.

-

"What have you done to my… the garden?" The horror in his voice was evident.

A cold smile spread across Marluxia's face. "I told the Superior that I needed a place to hone my skills, so now it's _my_ garden," he told the very distraught Demyx.

"But you said it wasn't good for growing flowers!"

"Hence the new landscaping." He'd gotten rid of the entire system of canals and set up a new, much smaller one to irrigate his plants. In essence, he pretty much destroyed the entire garden and remade it to suit his own whims and fancies. There were no more quaint little rocks to sit on while strumming on a sitar, just enough plants to swallow a person. Or a Nobody.

For that, he became the first, and possibly the only, Nobody to see Demyx (act (for they were, after all, Nobodies)) truly angry.

"This was my garden before you even turned up, number eleven," hissed the musician, emphasising the last two words. "I claimed it; I left my mark on it. What gave you the right to erase what I've done and to claim it for your own?"

"I've already told you," replied Marluxia mockingly. "The Superior sanctioned this."

Those narrowed eyes glared at him in what he would have parsed as extreme hatred, had he not been well acquainted with the fact that it wasn't possible.

"Why would anyone bother training someone who throws petals at his enemies? Flowers can't hurt anyone."

A split second later, his scythe was pressed to Demyx's throat. He was gratified to see the fear flash in those oh-so-green eyes. "Go on, tell me that flowers can't hurt anyone," he taunted, smirking widely. "Did you _imagine_ that I would be as weak as you?" His expression changed into a fake pout and he ran one gloved hand down the pale face. "You control such a potentially powerful element, yet even _flowers_ can defeat you without effort. I'm… so… _jealous_…"

As he slammed the scythe down, a portal appeared beneath Demyx, letting the musician fall away. It didn't matter; there was already blood splattered on the blade.

-

Water was such an unreasonable element. If there was somewhere it wanted to go, it could carve out the roots of mountains; it always found a way. It gave life and took away life at its own fancy, and no amount of pleading could change its mood. Like the sea changing its faces, water turns from laminar to turbulent with no apparent rhyme or reason. Only water can choose what water would do.

It was, perhaps, the reason that Demyx, who had once seemed so gullible, was one of the few who didn't fall to his charm. Or it could be that they were both faking it to everyone else. No one would ever believe him, but he knew, he just knew that, deep down inside, Demyx was a fucking bastard.

Who else could bear to (and spend the time to) viciously cut off each and every bloom in his garden?

Everything else had been going smoothly. He'd gained the Superior's trust and the grudging acceptance of everyone else. Furthermore, he was no longer the lowest rank in the Organisation, _and_ the newest member was perfectly amiable to being his ally.

He liked Larxene. She was exactly what he wanted a woman to be: easy on the eyes and poisonous inside. Like flowers, women were only useful when they were both beautiful and deadly. After all, he liked pretty things. All the better if they were useful things. Besides, women were easy to tame and to train. He'd had so much practice as while he lived.

He gave them the illusion that he would understand; his affinity with flowers built camaraderie with them. At the same time, he made sure that they knew he was available, a potential love interest and not as gay as the flowers seemed to imply. Then he showed them that it was possible to be both beautiful and strong, like aconite, like nightshade, like all of his beautiful flowers. They fell like flies.

In the absence of emotion, he let his thoughts wander while methodically cleaning up the mess of fallen blooms. Then he noticed that each cut stem had been frozen, ensuring that the plants would never bloom again.

-

He let the scientist stare at his scarred hands for a little while before crossing his arms and tucking them out of sight.

"What do you want, number eleven?" asked Vexen suspiciously, acting busy.

"I was just wondering if poisons work on Nobodies," replied Marluxia casually. He scanned the experimental set-ups, a little disappointed that he didn't see anything he recognised. Then again, he had only been a dabbler in the sciences. Back then, nobles didn't have to bother about such _practical_ things. They studied the more intellectual things, like philosophy, music and literature. And his world had been rather far behind, as far as sciences and technologies went, compared to what the original six were used to doing.

His words gave the scientist pause and he looked over.

"Don't you know?" he asked airily. "Or do I have to find out myself? I have a test subject in mind already, so experiments shouldn't be too hard. Besides, it's not like we need someone as useless as he is…"

"Stay away from Demyx, number eleven," snapped Vexen, turning around and finally looking at, though he didn't seem quite able to meet those mocking eyes. "Like it or not, he is of a higher rank than you. Such utterances could constitute as treason."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. But really, I'm curious…"

"There is nothing going on between the two of us. He's just a test subject!" interjected Vexen. "His continual insistence that he has a heart was something that had to be investigated, since he seems to be in the control of his emotions. It was only to test this hypothesis that I…" He trailed off as he realised that Marluxia was grinning like a cat that had just eaten cream.

"Really now," drawled the Graceful Assassin. "I was only going to ask…"

"Yes, they do. Now get out." For someone so deeply bound to his element, Vexen looked as though he was going to spontaneously combust into a vengeful fireball. Without Axel's help.

The image was so amusing that Marluxia had to file it away for future considerations.

"Why did you deface my garden?"

"Because someone turning up in the middle of a delicate experiment while spurting blood out of a severed jugular does nothing to help the experiment."

For an old fogey, Vexen was surprisingly strong. And quick. Because Marluxia found himself kissing the floor outside the labs.

-

He was naturally a patient man, because good things came to those who waited. And here he was, Lord of the Castle Oblivion, just one step away from achieving his ultimate goal of snatching control. Here he was, with a carefully chosen crew to aid or to torment.

Those of the original six would have to die. It was the first step to destabilise Xemnas's Organisation. He was certain that there would be ways to effect that. Vexen, especially, had to die a spectacularly tragic death.

Which was why he chose Axel. Axel, who was one of the neophytes, who would be more likely to join him in his conquest. But he knew about fire. Fire was untamable, but when contained and controlled, it made an excellent servant. However, if the fire were to escape and to take the role of master, there would be danger to everyone involved. This was just going to be a test of how well he could control fire.

031206


	2. Don't listen, the music lies

::Don't Listen, the Music Lies::

When the news broke of the decimation of the team sent to Oblivion, Demyx did the obvious thing: he destroyed Marluxia's garden and reclaimed the land as his own.

He had never liked the man, not ever since he'd heard Marluxia play. The man had been so confident of his abilities, oozing allure and seducing everyone's thoughts that he had almost believed that Marluxia could play. It was a crushing disappointment when he finally heard Marluxia's music.

Music was nothing without heart; he'd learnt that a long time ago. It was the reason why he sucked at fighting, even with his mastery over his element. Every song, every note, demanded his full attention and all of his heart. He couldn't let himself be distracted by things like having to aim or to evade; it would have broken the music and left it as empty as Marluxia's playing.

He would never let that happen to _his_ music. The day he first picked up his instrument was the day he gave up everything for music, even his very heart, just to produce those haunting melodies. He gave _everything_, which was why he detested those who claimed to be musicians when they were mere dabblers.

Marluxia actually dared to ask to play with him. Had he truly known the man then, perhaps he would have been a little more careful in replying, but that was near the beginning, when everyone was falling to the charms of the new, gentlemanly Nobody. For his ignorance, the man stole the garden. His garden. His retreat when he tired of playing to white walls.

The cloying scent of decaying flowers mixed with that of the fresh-dug earth into a nauseating stench, lingering and clinging. Just like its former owner's treachery.

He called the water, water that washed and purified, that cleansed. With enough water, all the taint could be washed away and his garden would be back.

Nothing he could do would be able to call the fallen souls back.

Not that he felt anything for any of them. There was only one thing in his heart and there wasn't space for anyone else. Still, there was a slight sense of loss. Never again could he look up to see Lexaeus listening silently to his music. Never again would he be able to sit next to Zexion on the rooftop or to play to the youth in the dead of the night.

Never again could he run to the labs to hide from whoever he'd pissed off on that day. Never again would he be chastised for the wounds he received in his carelessness. Never again would he see Vexen's expressive self that hid behind an ice-cold façade.

But he had known that since the day the postings were announced. There was no other reason why Marluxia would want Vexen. The scientist had once mutilated eleven's precious garden. The deed was done on his behalf, so, in a way, perhaps, it could be said that he was the one who sent Vexen to his death.

It started off as an experiment, or so Vexen claimed. No one believed him when he said that he had his heart, but Vexen was willing to investigate. He didn't mind at all; the attentions of one of the original six afforded him at least a little more protection. However, as time went by, even he could see that it wasn't just a study anymore.

In a way, he pitied Vexen. It had to hurt, being in love with someone who didn't care for you at all. Despite the scientist's claims to the contrary (the same old argument that they had no hearts and thus could not love), it was obvious to just about everyone else that he cared too much about Demyx to claim that it was all for the sake of an experiment.

They were feelings he could never return. His heart was in his music, and music does not love.

The garden was cleared, though it would take some time to restore it to that quiet place he'd been so used to since the beginning. Testing the air with a few notes, he nodded to himself, satisfied that Marluxia's taint had been washed away. To be sure, he would replace it with his own.

The notes sounded out as clearly and as precisely as always, but as he played, he realised that the song was not one of celebration. The music spoke of the sadness that he could not feel, of loss, longing and regret. Was this his heart, then, mourning on his behalf? In spite of his inability to care for them, would Vexen and the rest be comforted that his heart was crying in his stead? Then he would offer to them this dirge.

They would not have cared for flowers anyway.

151206


End file.
